For the Love of Camelot
by Cel140
Summary: "This curse is one that no other sorcerer has ever dared to cast. It is wrought with dangers, and even a High Priestess should not take it lightly." The Once and Future King has been brought back to life, but the new Court Sorcerer's destiny is far from complete. Alternate ending for Season 5.
1. Chapter 1: Hope

Chapter 1

Hope

With a heavy heart and a waning strength, Merlin looked over the glistening waters of the Lake of Avalon. It had been a week since he had sent the King's boat floating away and although it had dissappeared out of sight, he could not tear himself away.

The warlock fell to his knees as he covered his face with his hands. The tears did not come, but he was broken.

Once again, he felt the deep despair he had felt in the Crystal Cave when his magic had been taken and there was no way out. At that time, he had had the loving support of his father, but now he had no one. No hand to hold. No comforting voice to guide him.

But he did not merit such comfort. He had failed his destiny. How could he tell Gaius, the knights, the people of Camelot?

Then came a question that drained any color from his face.

What would he say to Gwen?

No, he could not return.

As Merlin thought of these things, he did not realize how exhausted he was. He had killed the High Priestess, defeated the Saxons, made Aithusa retreat, and ridden miles with his King to get here. He had fought it before, but now it began taking its toll. His vision began to blurr and when it blackened completely he fell unconscious on the shore.

...

"_Merlin_."

The sudden voice calling his name was startling and strangely familiar. He heard it quite distinctly, but from the gentle echo it caused, the warlock thought he must be dreaming.

In this vision or reality, whatever it was, Merlin was still lying in the same place he had been when he passed out. He turned slightly over to gaze at the lake, and the sight before him took his breath away.

There, standing in waist-deep water, was his beloved Freya!

She was positively radiant, still clothed in that beautiful deep blue silk dress, yet despite her shining apperance, her smile was sad.

The blue waters cast rippling shadows along Freya's face, an effect that made this whole encounter all the more dream-like. But he so badly wanted to believe it was real, he wanted the comfort her presence brought.

"Freya."He managed to murmur.

A small tear escaped her eye and she began to make her way through the waters towards him. When she emerged, Merlin noticed two things at once.

The first was that she was still perfectly dry, and the second was that she held the shining Excalibur in one hand.

"Hello Merlin," She said in that gentle, calming way of hers. She rested Excalibur down near him, and bending forward she pressed a soft kiss into his forehead. A wonderful shiver ran down Merlin's spine at this touch; her lips felt so soft and real! He leaned into this comforting touch, till she gently broke away.

"Is this a dream?" The warlock asked, losing himself in her sparkling brown eyes.

"Perhaps," Freya admitted, "But that doesn't matter. I am here to help you."

"How?" Merlin asked wearily.

"By giving you hope." She replied simply.

As the lady of the lake spoke, she lifted Excalibur from the soft turf and held it in two hands.

"The prophecy that Kilgharrah has told you," She began, "Is not all that was prophesied."

Merlin looked at her with confusion as he got up slightly on his elbows, yet the seed of hope had already been planted.

"_When Albion's need is at its greatest, Arthur will rise again. In the stone the sword will once more be placed, by the lady of the lake."_

"You."

"Yes," Said Freya, "When the time is right, I will place the sword in the stone, and Arthur will awaken. But the time of need must come first, Merlin. Camelot, and all of Albion, will need you in the dark times to come."

Merlin's shoulder sank back into the grassy shore.

"I can't go back." He mumbled.

"They need you," The lady of the lake said gently, but insistently, "The Queen will be the sole ruler of all Camelot. She needs someone whom she can confide with, she needs a guide."

Merlin sighed deeply. All that Freya had said was true, but how he wished it wasn't!

Freya's eyes softened in sympathy. She knew the loneliness he felt. She knew his burden was a heavy one to bear.

"Remember what you told Finna," Freya whispered soothingly, clasping one of Merlin's hands in hers. Merlin nodded slightly.

"It won't always be like this," She continued, "Things will be better, but you must keep hope."

The warlock let his fingers interlace with Freya's, feeling as though he needed as much of her comfort as he could get for this decision. He needed to return. But...

"How..." He could barely get the words out, "How am I going to..."

Merlin hesitated, and to his relief Freya understood what he meant.

"Word has already reached Camelot," She said softly, but then her voice quickened, "I must go now, I have been allowed to spend these moments with you, but I cannot stay."

"Don't leave me, please," Merlin pleaded, tightening his hold on her hand, causing a small tear to escape Freya's eye.

"You'll never be alone Merlin," She said. Releasing his hand, she guided it towards her chest.

"You'll be right here." And placed his hand over her heart, letting him feel the steady 'thump-thump-thump' under his finger tips, the comforting reassurance that he had needed when she had slipped through his fingers all those years ago.

"And you," Merlin whispered, "Will always have a place here."

Taking her petite hand, he laid it on top of his chest. Freya almost let out a sob, but she valiantly blinked away her tears.

"Return to Camelot, Merlin," She said bravely, "Return and save Albion."

The next thing Merlin knew was that he was awake, still lying in the same position. The sun's light had decreased, making him wonder how long he had been asleep.

It was then that he remembered Freya's visit which, for the most part, still felt like a wonderful dream, but her gentle prescence still lingered.

Merlin sat up slowly and as he did he heard a snort and a puff of hot breath just behind slowly, he acknowledged what he now saw was his horse, and couldn't help but let out a breath of relief.

The poor animal had had the scare of its life when Morgana had come, but now it seemed more calm as it stared quietly at Merlin with large, intelligent eyes.

"There, there," He said, patting its flanks. The horse obediently sat down, allowing the still frail Merlin to climb with ease on his back. The warlock grabbed the horse's reins as it stood to its full height, but as he was still too weak, he whispered a spell. His eyes glowed, and the horse started off at a trot towards the woods.

Merlin did not lead the horse, but allowed the spell to guide it and himself home.

...

"The King is dead. Long live the Queen!"

These words rang in Guinevere's ears as she shakily sat down in front of her window. Had it really been almost a fortnight since Sir Leon had uttered those words? It seemed like it had been an eternity of restless nights and with-held tears.

She had tried to stay brave for her people. She had hidden her face when she found that the tears were threatening to fall. She had closed herself inside her chambers when she felt faint under the weight of her new responsibility. But she couldn't take it. She wasn't a Queen, or a leader! She was a simple wife who desperately needed her beloved husband's love and comfort.

At that moment, a soft knock interrupted Gwen's bitter silence, and she tried to compose herself.

"Enter," She called, but her voice warbled.

The door opened softly and Gwen was relieved to see that it was Gaius.

"I've brought you your sleeping draft, my lady." He said, resting the potion on the Queen's night table.

Gwen did not trust her voice again, so she only nodded and Gaius bowed his head slightly in response. He didn't say more, but respectfully turned away and stepped out of her chambers. Gwen sadly watched the reflection of the old physician in her mirror, but it was only till she was behind closed doors again that she let go a small tear.

Turning back to look out the window, she tried to bring herself together, but she was crumbling apart. He had slipped through her fingers, and she didn't even get the chance to tell him that the whole world and all its riches meant no more than a blink of an eye when it came to him.

_"Smile." _He had requested so simply before leaving on the mission to rid Camelot of those terrible creatures.

_"I can't." _She had said distressedly.

_"Do you remember," _He had asked, a smile playing on his lips as he gently lifted her chin_,__ "__T__he first time I kissed you?"_

How could she forget?

_"__There,__" _He had said, visibly pleased_, "__T__hat's the memory I'm going to take with me."_

He would have wanted her to smile, but that had been so much easier when he had returned safely to her arms.

Gwen had quite lost herself in her unbroken stream of thoughts that she almost failed to see a struggling horse with its weak rider canter slowly into the town square. On another occasion, she may have let it pass, but the sudden flash of a red neckercheif, small though it was from this distance, caught her eye like a banner.

...

When he had returned to his house, Gaius had intended to finish off some last minute work before heading off to bed, but a soft knock on his door prevented him from doing so.

"Who could it be at this time of night?" He asked himself wearily, yet he forced himself to walk towards the door. As he reached to lift the latch, he had intended to kindly tell whoever it was that he would be able to help them tommorow, yet when he had opened the door all such words died on his lips.

There stood a tired and dishevelled, yet clearly alive Merlin! The old physician lips set apart and he looked as though he had seen a ghost.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Gaius had pulled the frail boy into a warm embrace.

"My boy!" He exclaimed in relief, "You're safe!"

Merlin was taken aback, but he found himself weakly leaning his head on Gaius' comforting shoulder. In that moment, he didn't feel like the great and powerful warlock, nor the King's clumsy manservant. He was the young, hopeful teen who relied on the guidance of a fatherly figure.

Gaius broke away slowly, and as he did he gave Merlin's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Come," He said, fighting back tears of joy, "I'll have your favorite ready in a minute and then we can talk."

Merlin could barely grasp what had taken place in such a short amount of time, but he managed to nod.

In about a half hour, Merlin and Gaius were sitting at the old wooden table.

"Freya visited me," Merlin was saying.

"The druid girl?"

"She told me in a vision," Merlin replied, "That I had to return to Camelot."

The warlock related the encounter and the days he had spent riding back to Camelot. He was about halfway through recounting the long journey to Camelot when he began rubbing his sleep laden eyes.

"I shouldn't have kept you up," Gauis said reproachfully, "You need your rest, everything else can wait till morning."

Merlin shook his head. He couldn't sleep. Not when every time he'd close his eyes he'd see the King's motionless body in his arms. Not when lying in his bed just gave him more time to regret not having the power to save his dear friend's life.

"Try," Gaius insisted gently, and there was not much else for Merlin to do but make his way up to his room and lie quietly on the cot with the reassurance that he would not be alone.

Chilly, night air had begun to seep through the window, prompting Merlin to wrap the blanket tighter round his body. Forcing his eyes to shut, he tried to think of peaceful things to make sleep come, but as he knew all too well, sleep did not come for the asking. At first it all seemed alright, but then as he fell deeper into his dreams, his eyes began moving slowly around in their sockets.

_"There's something, I want to say."_

_"You're not going to say goodbye!"_

_"No...I want to say..."_

_He struggled for breath, and Merlin tried to pull him up to ease the pain._

_"...Something, I've never said to you before...Thank you."_

_His hand dropped, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets._

_"Arthur? Arthur?!"_

_"No!"_

Merlin awoke sharply from his nightmare with an excrutiating pain in his chest. He grabbed the sheets into balls in his clenched hands, and he desperately tried to steady his fast-paced breaths. But try as he might, he could not stop the tears.

"He's dead," He cried softly, allowing silent, heart wrenching sobs shook his frail body.


	2. Chapter 2: Some In Dark, Others in Light

Chapter 2

Some Into the Darkness, Others into Brilliant Light

(In this chapter, right after Merlin's scenes, I'm going to write where Morgana and Arthur went after their deaths, so please let me if know in the reviews something is confusing :) Anyway, enjoy and thank you for the reviews, faves, and follows :D)

When Merlin awoke the next day, still dressed, he felt the sensation of dry tears on his cheeks. Perhaps admist his tears he had exhausted himself, but still he felt as though he hadn't closed his eyes at all. It felt as though this new day was simply an endless, sleepless continuation of the day before.

The sun's rays were coming in through his open window, and Merlin sat up in his cot to soak in its welcoming heat but, as relaxing as it was, Merlin's thoughts were far from content.

How could they be?

He couldn't be content, not when his dear friend still lay motionless in his boat, miles and miles away. Not when the scene ingrained in his memory was that of Arthur's farewell.

Merlin rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to reflect on what Freya had told him.

_"In the stone the sword will once more be placed, by the lady of the lake."_

He knew it would happen, but when? How long would he have to wait till the prophecy became reality? Would he have to await century after century, only compelled forward by the belief that he would someday return?

"He's only just returned yesterday, I think it would be best to give him a moment."

The voice came abruptly from the other side of Merlin's door, and Merlin jerked his head up at the sudden sound of Gaius' voice.

"I know, but he must come now, it is important."

Merlin could not tell who it was who spoke these words and he slipped out of bed quickly. Standing to his feet, Merlin peered through a crack in his door in an effort to figure out who was speaking.

"I'll tell him." Gaius replied, and then Merlin heard the person's feet heading out and the front door being shut.

"Who was that?"

Gaius turned round in surprise and he saw Merlin in the open door of his room, confusion on his face.

"I thought you were asleep," The old physician sighed gently, clearly hoping he had been. Merlin's face softened as this reminded him just how much his well-being meant to Gaius. It only reminded him of course, because Merlin had no shadow of a doubt of his guardian's fatherly concern and unchangeable fondness for him.

"That was the Queen's messenger," Gaius continued as he sat at his work table to begin grinding the herbs he had collected the day before. Merlin stepped forward a few paces.

"She wants to see you." The old physician said, pausing momentarily in his work, "At once."

...

Subsequently, Merlin found himself standing at the doors of the main hall. He locked his muscles tightly when he felt the urge to step away, but he could not remove the overwhelmed feeling he felt deep inside.

It seemed that the guards knew full well that he was coming, because they slowly opened the doors for him, allowing the warlock to take a few tentative paces inside.

His arrival was not noticed at once, and when he entered the only people he could see were several knights of Camelot; all of which had their backs to him.

"My lady," Called the guard of the door, "He is here."

As the guard spoke these words, all the knights turned turned and looked at him almost speechlessly. Merlin had to choke back tears, for he saw Sir Leon and Sir Percival in the group and beside them-she had been hidden by their red cloaks before-stood Guinevere.

The Queen's eyes, when they met Merlin's, did not move off of the warlock, but seemed to widen and one could see her skin paling beneath her brown skin. Her lips set apart and faltering words directed to the knights escaped them.

"You may go now."

The knights bowed to the Queen momentarily and in a few moments only the two of them remained in the hall.

Merlin looked into Gwen's eyes with knots forming in his stomach and an unbearable silence in the air. The warlock was unsure whether he was meant to break it or not, for the Queen herself looked as though she were trying to say something.

To say the truth, Gwen wasn't sure whether to believe her senses or not. It had been almost a fortnight since she had last seen him, there was no denying that. That was why she had someone ask Gaius for him. After not having seen him for so long, she had taken him for lost, but what could she make of it now? Was he just a phantom of her imagination, sent by Morgana to torment her? Or was he truly standing there, flesh and bones, looking at her with suppressed emotions building up?

"Is it-" Gwen breathed tremblingly, her face paling, "Is it really you?"

Unaware of her own movements, Gwen had been slowly stepping forward towards him, and now she was barely a few feet from him.

Merlin swallowed down the lump that had begun to form.

"Yes," He said.

Gwen's eyes began to cloud with tears and, taking a few more stumbling steps, she threw herself upon Merlin's neck. The manservant stepped back a few paces at the impact, but his shock was overcome when the Queen let out a sob of relief. He could barely believe what was unfolding, but he slowly reached out and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her shoulders.

Gwen took great comfort and support in the embrace of her old friend, and finally she allowed her walls of feigned courage and strength to come down.

"You're alive," She mumbled into his jacket before pulling slowly away and wiping away her tears.

Merlin could barely comprehend anything, but he needed to say what had been on his mind.

"My lady, I don't-"

"Merlin," Gwen interrupted, forcing a smile through her tears, "There's something I wanted to say."

Merlin's face fell slightly, but he listened.

"I want to thank you," She said.

That was something he had not expected.

"T-thank me?" Merlin stuttered hoarsely.

"I see the truth now," She replied, "One that I've been blind to for far too long, that no one has ever noticed in you, but has saved us all time and time again."

Merlin's chest constricted and his face began paling. Surely she didn't, no one could have told her, she wouldn't know-

Would she?

"Magic."

Merlin's stomach turned, his breath faltered, and his muscles locked. She knew.

A million different voices came in his mind, most yelling at him to escape, but others whispering that he should wait. The impulse to run was building up and overpowering him, but just as he began to step away, Gwen's arm reached out and grasped the cuff of his coat.

"Please," She said gently, "I understand."

Merlin froze in place at her words, as if trying to decide whether he had heard them, or if this was just a dream. Had she really said she _understood_?!

"I know now, why you kept this a secret all these years," Gwen said, slowly releasing his cuff, "You've done so much for everyone, and yet you never sought any credit."

Merlin felt a twinge of pain as he suddenly re-lived the moment when Arthur had said almost the very same words.

"It's not why I do it." Merlin managed to say.

A slight smile graced Gwen's face at his modesty, "Of course, but you deserve everyone's gratitude."

"No," Merlin mumbled, his voice sounding distant and unreachable, "I don't deserve your gratitude, or any credit. I-I've-"

Merlin's voice trembled as he felt threatening tears building up.

"I've failed." He breathed.

By now a tear had fallen down his cheek, but he did nothing to stop it. He did not look the Queen directly in the eye, he could not meet the betrayed look that he was sure was probably coming to her face. But when his gaze met hers once more, her eyes displayed no hardness or anger towards him. Instead, they were soft and glistening with her own tears.

"You have not failed," Guinevere murmured with a gentle tone, "You've been at Arthur's side through every hardship and every difficulty, till the very end. If someone with such loyalty, selflessness, and courage doesn't deserve credit and gratitude-"

Gwen paused momentarily, a smile coming to her face.

"-I don't know who does."

Merlin looked at her speechlessly, his heart feeling as though it had found wings in her words.

"I-I don't know what to say." He blurted.

"You don't need to say anything," Gwen replied softly, "I'm just so glad you're back safe."

The two friends talked for some time more, Merlin giving guidance while the Queen returned him with praise.

"I shouldn't have kept you this long," Gwen said with a small sigh around the end of their conversation, "I just needed-well, you understand."

"I should leave you to your matters of state, my lady," Merlin replied respectfully, bowing slightly and leaving Guinevere. When he was once again outside the main hall's doors, he let out a sigh of joy and relief, as well as a much better feeling than he had had when he first entered. The pain was still present, but the words he had received had already begun to work on his broken soul like a healing balm, slowly bringing healing to the pain.

The Queen also felt most of the weight on her shoulders lifted, and although her beloved husband was not here beside her, she now knew she was not as alone as she thought she had been.

...

"Goodbye Morgana."

As Merlin's face began to lose its clarity and to fade away into a haze, Morgana let out a gasp-like final breath.

Then darkness overcame her suddenly, so dark that she could see nothing whether her eyes were open or shut. She could hear nothing, feel nothing.

But that was changed quickly, for as her life left her body, she began to feel as though she were falling. She was going down faster and faster, and as she did the dread of meeting the bottom hit her with such a fear as she had never experienced before.

A scream of Morgana's terror ripped through the blackness just before she met the bottom. She fell hard, and when she found herself lying on a cold, rocky floor, she dared not budge for fear of what one movement may do. A thick liquid dripped on her from up above as she lay still. Her body ached from head to toe, but the only pain that was not due to the fall was the excrutiating pain in her stomach, one that made her chest heave from the pain it caused.

It was _his_ dragon-breathed sword, and she was here because of him.

A terrible sensation flooded her when she realized how similar this hole was to the one she had been imprisoned for two years with only her dear crippled dragon and the loathsome Sarrum's voice ringing in her ears day and night.

"Aithusa?" Came her shaky call in the dark, suddenly reminded of her precious dragon.

There was no response. Her call echoed through the pit, indicating that it was much larger than Morgana expected it to be, a realization that made Morgana recoil. Who knew what or who could be hiding in the blackness? Who could be lurking in the shadows, awaiting till she fell unconscious to strike?

But just as these thoughts came to her, she hated the way fear had gripped her heart so easily. She was a High Priestess! Darkness held no fear for her, and so she should not fear it!

But she did. Her views about her immortality and supreme power had been shattered when Merlin had plunged his sword deep into her stomach. She was not as powerful as she thought, she once more she felt like that frightening little girl who lived with the fear of being executed day after day.

Morgana made an effort to get up at this thought, but was struck by a breath-taking pang of pain in her stomach and collapsed back down with a thud.

"Aithusa-?" She choked out uncertainly, clutching her side as her desperate thoughts raced back to her dear dragon.

Yet this time, Morgana was not met by silence or the echo of her own voice, but by a quiet gargling noise. She held her breath at the sound and her eyes tried hard to see in the pitch blackness.

And to her relief, she heard the clawed feet of her beloved dragon coming towards her.

"Come!" She exclaimed in relief, reaching her hand out to caress Aithusa's face, but as she did she was not met by the scaly skin of her beloved dragon. Instead, Aithusa's presence dissappeared into thin air just as suddenly as it had come.

"Aithusa!" She cried, "Aithusa!"

"Morgana, calm down!"

She froze when the sudden voice came, only just behind her. It was so gentle, so kind, so familiar!

Turning her head as far as her aching neck would allow, Morgana's breath hitched at the sight. Before her, with a gentle smile on his pale face, stood-

"Mordred?" She gasped, eyes glistening with tears.

There before her Mordred stood-eyes so gentle, surrounded by a strange glow. He looked at her with eyes that wrote pages in just one glance.

"I'm here to get you out, Morgana," He whispered gently, "You have nothing to fear!"

Morgana could barely believe her ears or eyes, but she slowly reached out to her hand to grasp Mordred's. Morgana stifled a cry of pain as she reached her arm towards him, but she didn't care if it would kill her. She needed to feel his touch, she needed to know he was alive and real. Their pale fingers were only inches apart, and Morgana strained to make them touch.

And yet, as their hands were almost about to, Mordred's gentle smile faded. Morgana's face fell as he retracted away his outstretched hand and allowed a cruel look to take the place of his previously comforting appearance.

"Really Morgana," He jeered, and the coldness that suddenly entered his voice made her feel as though a knife were stabbing her deep in the heart, "I didn't know you were so gullible."

Throwing back his head, Mordred let out a cackling, cruel laugh that echoed loudly in the hole before dissappearing into thin air.

"No!" Morgana exclaimed, her voice reaching hysterical. Her head whipped to and fro, looking earnestly for him. No, he did not mean what he said! He wouldn't say such a thing!

Then came a thought that made her skin crawl and the cold air round her seep through her shredded black clothing with sudden realization.

_He_ wouldn't-but his phantom would. Now she understood what was happenning.

The thick, liquidy substance that had been dripping on her and around her this whole time-it was not water.

They were mandrake roots, thousands upon thousands of them, bound with the most powerful and dangerous of all magic. She was being put under its spell!

Mordred's cruel laughing continued, and now Morgana began to hear other voices.

_"Emyrs is your destiny Morgana, and he is your doom."_

_"I thought we were friends."_

_"You are consumed by bitterness Morgana, it spreads within you like a disease."_

_"Why do you hate me so much?!"_

_"__I hope one day you will find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart__."_

_"You are more like Uther than you realize."_

_"I want nothing from you."_

_"Is this really what you wanted Morgana?!"_

Morgana began to shiver as with every word spoken to her, she saw flashes of their faces. The Calleiach's, Arthur's, Annis', Gwen's, Mordred's-Merlin's.

She stopped her ears, yet she could not block out the laughing and the voices. Lying there, she was almost at the point of screaming, but she held it back. She would not give in!

"Don't listen to the lies," She kept telling herself, "Do not let them break you!"

The mandrake root only began to work harder against her mind, pressuring her, piercing the depths of her very soul, and pushing her towards everything she feared and dreaded.

"**Eor****d****e astanas hiera****p****sum**** me!**"Morgana gasped, **"****Ic can stanas tobryan,****i****c thei on clepe aristunum**!"

The mandrake root; however, would not yield to her weakening magic that had taken just as a fatal blow as her body had. She could not resist it, and so there she lay, consumed by her owns tears and screams in an effort to quiet the never silent, always speaking voices.

...

"Arthur! Arthur!"

The pain was growing in his side and as Merlin screamed down at him, Arthur tried to tell him he was alright, that he was alive, but Merlin could not hear him. It was as if his voice had been muted, and the feeling of being unable to comfort a friend who had been there for him countless years was terryfying. But there was nothing he could do. His spirit left him, and as he began to float heaven-ward, he saw his motionless body being cradled in a broken Merlin's arms.

Then the scene before him was consumed in blackness, till he could no longer see anything.

"Merlin!" He exclaimed as it dissappeared.

The darkness was overwhelming, and panick seized him when he realized what was happening. He was dead! Just as fear gripped him, a new scene began to unfold before his eyes. He was showed his life from begginning to end, but it all passed before him too quickly for him to remember his early childhood.

Then, slowly but surely, the scenes slowed down and he was shown a scene where Guinevere, in the great hall, was being crowned sole ruler of Camelot.

A beautiful, silk red dress was draped and fitted ever so carefully round her that was in itself stunning, but nowhere near as beautiful as its wearer. Yet, as beautiful and as regal as she was, her expression so sad, so pained.

"The King is dead," He heard Sir Leon announce, "Long live the Queen!"

And everyone in the crowd took up the chant, yet although those who spoke the words were genuine, their voices were weak and melancholy. Arthur tried to reach out to the image, hoping with all that was in him that it would take him there, but it faded away suddenly without a trace.

Now, the King began moving at a phenomenal speed, but he could not tell at once because he was in pitch blackness. The blackness round him;however, was no longer frightening, but somehow it felt like the darkest hour just before the dawn; a transition from darkness to light.

As he moved forward, the blackness was suddenly overcome by an array of bright, vivid colors, ones that were so ethereal that he wondered whether he was losing his mind or if they truly had begun to shoot out out of their own accord.

But they were real! They moved about him like small comets of green, blue, purple, gold, red, and silver. Several of the red and gold comets intertwined and began shooting straight through his lower stomach where his wound was, but they did not cause him any pain. In fact, it felt as though they were healing him.

Then, just as quickly as they had come, the colored lights began to intertwine once more and fade into white, till they formed a small ball of pure light that thrummed and vibrated with life. It was so real and thrilling that Arthur felt his own skin tingle and shiver to the thrumming sound.

The light began to grow more and more intense that Arthur had to force his eyes shut, and kept them squeezed tight, sure that if he would open them, he would be blinded by the light.

He kept moving towards it, and as did he suddenly felt strong hands grab at him, as if pulling him through as one would pull another through the gap of a cave. There was a moment of struggle, till whoever had grabbed him managed to pull him through and hoist him up. In his semi-consciousness, Arthur heard voices chanting:

"**P****u fornimest adl fram guman, ****s****eópan ****ae****rest wear****d**** feasceaft funden. Denum ****ae****fter dom.** **Dreamleas gebad he gewann langsum**."

And although he was not accustomed to it, Arthur realized that this was some form of magic, and that those who were performing it did not mean him any harm.

"We must remove the steel." Arthur heard a masculine voice say, a voice that sounded very familiar to the one that had spoken the spell. His words came out in a somewhat unsteady tone, presumably because of the powerful spell he had just uttered.

"Careful!" Another voice warned, "The dark magic that forged this sword is powerful and ancient."

But Arthur heard no more, because just as these words were uttered he fell into unconsciousness.

(Ok, that's it for this chapter! I really hope you enjoyed and please review! Faves and follows are always appreciated, but I really want to know what you all think! Anyeay, thank you so much for reading and I hope this will make you want more!)


	3. Chapter 3: An Impossible Feat

Chapter 3

An Impossible Feat

It was late evening on the day that Merlin had been accepted by the Queen, and although everything seemed to be going well for the warlock in Camelot, not all was well outside Camelot's confines.

Far, far away, in the woods near the Lake of Avalon, across many plains, rivers, and countless forests, lay Morgana's body, motionless under the star lit sky. Her dark hair spread in tangled waves on the ground, her pale hands rested at her sides, and her open eyes still portrayed the fear she had experienced before death.

Yet she was not alone.

"She is here, my lady!" Called a hooded figure, kneeling beside the body.

At this beckoning, down the slope came the person who had been addressed.

She was an elderly woman, yet she was taller than most would have been at her age and, like her hooded companion, she seemed to prefer hiding from the bright starry night. All her features were concealed, that is, save a hint of proud, sharp eyes.

"She is so _cold_." The woman muttered quietly, resting a wrinkled hand on Morgana's cheek. A flicker of anger came into the her eyes, but it was eventually replaced by determination.

"She hasn't much time," She added, this time speaking to her companion, "The preservation spell must be cast at once."

The woman set to work immediately. Nodding to the hooded figure, they waved their hands over the High Priestess' body and began to recite an ancient spell.

"**Nu bebiede ic ****p****e ****pae****t ****p****u l****ae****test ****p****ine fl****ae****sc**," They chanted, "**S****clice gelic nysse, ****w****yr****p**** deor**."

The woman's and her companion's hands trembled as they spoke from the power surging through their bodies into Morgana's, but they did not stop. Their voices only grew stronger, and their hooded cloaks began to move this way and that as it might if it was in the wind.

"**Unheran achtung bragdan**," They continued, much louder than before, "**Diegol cnytte, gewitte me yst, aliese hine, to he cym****p**!"

With the last words of the spell and a golden shine of their eyes, a brief brilliant shine of what looked like a bubble surrounded Morgana before flickering and absorbing itself into her body. And when it did, she did not stir, but something began happening.

Her skin turned a more healthy color and her lips changed from a cold and chapped blue to a soft pink, making her look as though she had died only moments ago. Her expression did not change, but she looked considerably better than she did before.

"There," The woman said, intending to say more, but hindered by her short breaths.

"She will stay in this condition till we find a way to revive her," The hooded figure finished for her, "But should we not go to the Sidhe? They can save her."

"No!" The woman replied sharply in a tone that left no room for arguing, "The Sidhe want the throne of Camelot, they will not let Morgana take it; even if they did save her. No, I have a better plan."

...

"What happened?"

This question was voiced by Gaius, that same evening, as he scrutinized the new potion he had been making for the Queen with his magnifying glass. Merlin had perched himself on the staircase towards one of the many collections of Gaius' books, and hadn't said much to Gaius at lunch or even dinner.

"She accepted me," Was Merlin's reply, and although it held utter shock, it had an undertone of relief and joy, "She even intends to make me her personal advisor."

Gaius seemed surprised himself after receiving such an answer after Merlin's long silence, but he was glad too. His boy was home, safe, and accepted. He could have never asked for more out of life than to see his dear ward this way.

"Her personal advisor?" Gaius repeated, pride very present in his voice.

Merlin nodded indistinctly, "I never thought the day would come, but it has."

Gaius smiled slightly and, pushing back his chair, he forgot his work for the time being to make his way up the stairs towards Merlin.

"I never doubted it would," Gaius said confidently, standing two steps lower than where Merlin sat.

Merlin managed a smile, but there was still something in his eyes. Something that still concerned him. Something that Gaius could not pin down. From the day he had seen Mordred and Arthur's fight in the pool by the druid seer, Merlin often carried that unreadable look. It seemed to be a mixture of fear, if Gaius looked intently, or the burden of his destiny, or both. Whatever it was, it was clearly upsetting him.

"What is it?" Gaius asked bluntly, watching Merlin jump slightly and his eyes focus as if he were coming out of a reverie.

And he had just come out of a reverie. A terrible reminder, more like it. He saw something like a vision, or a dream, or an illusion-which one it was he could not tell-of the last glimpse Arthur's peaceful face before he floated away.

"I thought," Merlin said quietly, and now Gaius realized that his eyes were glistening, "I thought that we would have all had a happy ending. That Arthur would have lived, and he would have been King by Gwen's side. That, the ban on magic would be abolished at his word. That Camelot would finally see its Golden Age."

Gaius' eyes softened when Merlin unashamedly allowed the tears to trickle out of his eyes down his cheeks and let out what sounded like a soft sob. He had every right to shed tears.

He had gone through so much, lost so many people. He had used all his strengths and powers to keep Arthur alive, to make Camelot prosper. And now his world was crumbling about him, and he could do nothing about it. He could only watch his dearest friend and the brother he never had slowly slip through his fingers like grains of sand.

"But," Gaius said gently, uncertainly reaching out to place a hand on Merlin's small shoulder, "He will live. It has been prophesied. He will return."

Merlin did not shirk away at the touch, so Gaius gave him a comforting squeeze. It was not much, but at that moment it was probably the best thing he could have done because Merlin's quiet sobs subsided and dried tears stained his cheeks.

"When?" Merlin asked feebly.

The tone in which he asked the question was so earnest. The deep blue pools of his eyes practically bored into Gaius', watching, waiting so expectantly for an answer.

He needed something to hold onto during the difficult times that were sure to come.

And yet, to his great despair, Gaius found no words for him. His guardian, his mentor, his guide,who had promised his mother to give this wonderful and unique boy everything he needed, had no answer to this desperate question.

"I do not know." Gaius admitted, angry at himself the moment the words left his lips for Merlin looked at him in such a subtly hurt way. It was as if he were trying to spare Gaius' feelings from being hurt by his pain, but being unable to fully hide his emotions.

He stood to his feet to make his way to his room, but Gaius stopped him by calling after him.

The warlock turned sharply, the look of hurt still present in his eyes, but some hope in them as well.

"I may not know when it will happen," The old physician said, "But I can assure you that as long as you keep hope, he will return."

Merlin swallowed hard, but he managed a stiff nod. He was right. If he let go of hope, all would be lost. No, he had to keep the faith, he had to stay strong. It was the only way.

...

Light. The sensation of being in a tent-like enclosure. An aromatic smell. Cushions. Soft silk against his cheek.

But more importantly, a warm hand was stroking his forehead, gently parting his hair.

It was to these things that Arthur woke to, but he couldn't quite find the strength to open his eyes, not yet. They felt too heavy, and besides that he did not feel like opening them. The illuminated atmosphere, the feeling of being somewhere safe, and the unfamiliar, yet not frightening hand was enough to make him want to lie still and bask in the warm light some more.

He let out a soft exhale, but it must have been louder than his previous breaths, because the hand that had been caressing his face so gently stopped. And now that it did, Arthur felt strangely unhappy, as one might if they were given something unexpected and wonderful one moment, and then have it taken from them the next. It was a slight discomfort at first, but as it grew, Arthur couldn't stand it.

He slowly forced his lids to open, and at first all he saw was too much light, a blurred shape and a glimpse of the place he was in. It was too difficult to focus and get his eyes to adjust to the light, so he allowed them to shut briefly before he trying to open them again.

As he struggled against the weakness he felt, The King noticed how much the silk 'pillow' under his head felt uncommonly like a lap, and when he noticed it he felt foolish for not having realized it before. It was someone's lap, and it was also their hand that had caressed his forehead. But whom?

Finally he managed to open his eyes, and the sight before him would be enough to take anyone's breath away.

He was in a luxuriously decorated tent filled with cushions and carpets, colorful silk cloths draped decoratively from the roof, and scented candles sitting on the carpeted floor or hanging in candle holders from the roof. The light that poured in through the open door was all too lovely to be sunlight, and it was accompanied perfectly by a faint breeze that stirred the light, silky tent doors.

But all these things seemed dim and worthless in comparison to the one who had woken him in the first place.

At first, he couldn't quite understand whether he knew this person or not but then, in an almost as shocking way as Merlin's revelation, the realization of who this was hit him.

The gentle blue eyes, the pale face with rosy cheeks, the golden hair that seemed to have captured the radiance of the sun, the gold, patterned silk dress-

"Mother."

And when she gave a radiant answering smile, Arthur knew that this was no vision or impersonation. She was here!

"You're safe now, _my_ son," Igraine whispered soothingly, grasping his limp hand-the one opposite to her-and pressing her soft lips into it, "No one will ever hurt you again."

Arthur stared up at her like a man enchanted and found that he had no words to ever express the endless amount of emotions he was feeling at this moment. Joy, relief, motherly love, exhaustion, and an overall sensation of being comforted beyond words-these were just a few.

"H-how-" He murmured breathlessly, "Where am I?"

"Avalon," She replied, rubbing the outside of his hand with her thumb,"The dwelling place of those who have passed on."

Arthur opened his mouth worriedly and Igraine, as if reading his mind, let go of his hand to run delicate fingers where the King's forehead had begun to crease.

"Do not trouble yourself, Arthur," She said gently, silencing him simply by the sound of her comforting voice,"Only those who are not burdened by hatred and revenge can enter into Avalon."

Arthur found that he breathed more steadily now, but the thought of seeing Mordred in this place-it reminded him of his wound. It was bandaged, that much he could tell, but he was still unsure what had happened to it. Had the shard punctured his heart, as Gaius had whispered so anxiously to Merlin that it might? And if so, had those people who had saved him done something to his wound or the shard with magic? What kind of people were they?

The questions were building up inside of him, exhausting him and, clearly, alerting Igraine.

"Sleep Arthur," She said, and Arthur felt suddenly as though he could listen to her soft voice forever, "You are weak, sorrowful, and burdened with cares. The druids of Avalon's magic is indeed strong, but it cannot heal you if you do not let it. Sleep."

At that moment Igraine began sing-in a voice so lovely she sounded like an angel-a soft lullaby in the ancient tongue of Arthur's forebearers. It was a song that Arthur's nanny used to sing to him, for almost all women-particularly mothers-in Camelot knew it. It had been passed down generation to generation, and hearing it now brought Arthur back such bittersweet memories.

"_Nanny, why do you sing to me_?" He had asked one night just before his nanny tucked him into a bed that was far too large for a toddler so small as him.

"_Do you not want me to sing_?" His nanny had questioned gently.

"_No, I mean, why don't I have a mother sing to me_?"

His nanny had looked at him with such a pained expression, but before she had had a chance to say anything, the King had come into the room to usher her out and to say goodnight to him. And of course, young Arthur got no clear explanation out of his father.

Hearing this song now, he couldn't quite hold back the tears. But they were not sad tears.

They were tears of joy.

Igraine smiled softly through her own as she looked down at her wonderful son lying so quietly on her lap and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He was her baby. A beautiful, blue-eyed new-born with the slightest hint of golden whisps on his perfect head. A baby so small, but so full of strength and life. So full of a potential for a wonderful destiny, one that would impact so many lives, and in turn be impacted by many.

How it was a sight she had treasured! How she had clung to it all these years in Avalon when she missed her baby so.

But now she did not have to miss him.

Even if the time would come when he would have to be separated from her once more, she would always treasure his memory in her heart. She would remember the tiny baby; she would remember the proud, yet wise prince; and she would remember the now peacefully sleeping Once and Future King.

...

"My lady?"

Gwen stirred slightly at the title she thought she would never get used to hearing. She gave Sir Leon a weak smile when she focused on him before trying her best to concentrate all her attentions on the numerous papers on the table.

It was late evening, but still she had not managed to free herself of her endless matters of court. She would never be free of them. Not now. Not when the kingdom looked to her as their only leader.

It was stressful, knowing that all eyes were on you, awaiting your word when you had none to say, depending on your guidance when you did not know what kind to give, looking up to you when you felt weak. She did not know how to handle it all!

"You may be excused, Sir Leon," Gwen sighed, not wanting to keep the knight up till late. Sir Leon hesitated. The Queen clearly couldn't keep her eyes open for much longer, but he was not one to disobey orders.

Briefly bowing his head of blonde curls, Leon left his post at the Queen's right hand and made his way for the doors, leaving Gwen, still seated at her throne, to continue filling in the papers and reading.

She supressed a slight yawn and, with a bittersweet smile, suddenly remembered how Arthur had loved them. She could tell that he would light up when she stuck up her hand to cover her mouth, because it automatically meant 'time to cuddle'. She had cuddled him far too little, and now all she wanted was to enter her room, but not to find the bed empty and the only one to greet her being her maid, as wonderful as Hannah was.

She wanted-no-needed to see him sitting on the bed, giving her the smile that would light the world and gently patting her side of the mattress. Then she would snuggle beside him, lay her head on his chest, and while he would tell her how wonderful she was and plant kisses into her hair-she would just bask in the moment and lose herself in his sparkling blue eyes.

If she ever had to define complete happiness, that was the only definition she knew.

Why did it have to be taken from her?

Gwen let out an unsteady exhale as she stared blankly again at her papers. She was too tired to look at them now. She needed rest. Perhaps tomorrow she would be more refreshed.

She pushed back her chair, and as she stood to her feet she picked up the stack of papers and made her way out-smiling and wishing goodnight to the guards of the door.

"Do you wish to bathe, my lady?" Hannah asked after Gwen had entered and she was helping her out of the blue gown she had been wearing.

Gwen thought on it a moment.

"Yes," She said gratefully, "I'd like that."

The red-head curtsied and brushing lightly past Gwen, she pulled back the screen infront of the bath-tub and began to fill it.

Gwen stepped behind her screen and removed her under layers, then wrapped her body in a soft towel.

"It's ready, my lady." Hannah said, pouring in the last bowlful of steamy warm water. She stepped out of the way so that Gwen could test the waters.

"Thank you, Hannah," Gwen said when her delicate brown hand approved of the temperature, "Please, pull the screen."

The maid did so and said she would tidy the room a bit while the bath was taken. Gwen slipped out of her bath-robe into the welcoming bath and, through the steam of the water, she glanced down at her stomach.

It had been feeling strangely of late, but as to why she couldn't be sure. She had already told the symptoms to Gaius: fatigue, cramps, nausea, and back pains. He had looked at her in a way that meant he was guessing, but was unwilling to say more till he was sure.

"It is most likely due to the events of these past weeks, my lady," He had said, but hadn't seemed very convinced, "You've been wearied and distressed. Try to relax when you can and rest. I will bring you potions when I have them ready."

Gwen had decided to believe him, but other ideas had come to mind. There had been many, but the one that had resonated louder than the others-what if she was conceiving Arthur's child? And when the thought came to her, she could not push it out of her mind.

It was possible that she had not noticed it up till now, perhaps-just maybe. Gwen very nearly felt a shriek of delight rising in her throat, yet it was stopped halfway. She could not jump to conclusions.

But could she ask her maid?

Hannah was a young mother of two, she would know. She wouldn't tell her otherwise if what she thought was true. She would tell her the truth.

"Hannah?" The Queen asked, trying to keep her voice calm and collected, but unable to hide the quiver of hope in it.

"Yes?" Hannah responded politely as she pulled back the sheet and blankets on the bed.

Gwen's lip trembled slightly, wondering how she was going to ask this without sounding strange or overly excited.

"What are the symptoms of pregnancy?" It was a bold question, but it was the only way to put it.

The maid hesitated momentarily, as if gathering together her recollections, "Morning sickness, fatigue, mood swings, and often aversions or cravings to some foods. But if I may I be as bold to ask, why does your majesty wish to know?"

Gwen was practically tingling from her excitement by now.

"I think I may be having some of them."

A metallic crash-possibly a cup dropped on the floor-was heard in response to the Queen's outburst.

Gwen felt worried at this, especially when Hannah began mumbling apologies for her clumsiness. She decided to get out. Grabbing the robe, she wrapped it about her wet body and stepped out from behind the screen. Hannah looked at her wide-eyed.

"Are you s-sure?" The maid stuttered and then, remembering her etiquette, "-my lady?"

"I wasn't at first, but I think-if you would confirm it-"

Silence met the Queen's eagerness, till Hannah realized she was expected to speak.

"You-that is-" Hannah paused uncertainly, "-do you have-"

She began listing several of symptoms that one may have at this stage, all of which an increasingly excited Gwen agreed to.

The maid looked as shocked as could be.

"You may very well be with child, my lady." She agreed almost speechlessly.

Gwen finally allowed herself a squeal of delight and she stepped forward to squeeze her maid's hand in delight.

"Thank you Hannah, thank you!" She exclaimed, before stepping behind the screen to throw off her towel and slip into her night-dress.

She came out promptly as soon as the dress had been fitted round her, a shining smile on her face and a new light in her brown eyes.

"You may be dismissed now, Hannah," Gwen said happily, doing her best to calm down her excitement, "Thank you-for everything."

"It is my pleasure my lady," Hannah replied with a soft smile, "Congratulations."

The Queen beamed her a smile as she curtsied briefly before dissappearing into the hallway outside The Queen's chambers. Guinevere could barely contain her newfound joy, and although she was sure her whole kingdom would, not all shared her joy. And, in some ways, her very own maid was one of them.

The instant Hannah closed the door behind her, her smile faded. Fear grabbed her as she tucked a whisp of red hair behind her ear.

_They_ were not going to happy with this news. But if she could help it, she would not let the truth slip.

The red-haired maid hurried out of the castle towards the lower town, barely noticed by the guards and people she passed. She was the maid of the Queen. Few people had any reason to doubt her, and _they_ knew that this was a huge advantage.

She moved along quickly now, and she was just about to reach her house when she was pulled aside, out of the view of the torches and people with sharp eyes, by a hand.

She knew who it was, and how she dreaded seeing him night after night.

"Hannah." A hooded man addressed her.

"Please," She gasped, "Must you do that?"

"When the serving girl who calls herself Queen is removed," He replied coolly, "all who oppose us are dead, and the true Queen of Camelot sits on the throne, then-"

Here he paused, and Hannah shivered when he let out a soft cackle.

"-then, we can meet in more friendly circumstances."

He wasted no more time before asking her what had been taking place at the castle.

"The King's manservant has returned," She said plainly, "And the Queen has welcomed him."

She could not tell them of the Queen's pregnancy, but what was to stop the Queen from telling everyone the happy news?

"Is that," He hissed dangerously, "All?"

It was frightening how the man had to simply square his shoulders and clench his hands to look foreboding.

"Yes."

"Do not lie to me," He threatened, "We both know what happens to your children if you do."

Hannah lip trembled and she avoided eye contact.

"Hannah," He murmured in a tone of feigned gentleness, eyeing her cottage as he spoke, "Surely you do not want to lose your family by terrible, excrutiating-"

"The Queen is with child," She blurted, faster than she had time to think.

"What?" The man growled in disbelief, and Hannah hoped with everything in her and that would not believe her words. But from the look on his face, it seemed he already began to. His tense shoulders loosened and his fists unclenched.

"Thank you, Hannah." He said, remastering the calmness in his voice, "You've been most-informative."

He allowed a cruel smirk to come to his partially masked face before turning away. Then he dissappeared into the night, leaving a breathless and shaky Hannah in the middle of the street to dread what the future might now hold. All was not going to go well for Camelot.

(AAANNDD there we have it! Chapter 3! I hope you guys all enjoy this one, I tried not to rush, but I felt that this needed to take place sooner than later. Anyway, please review, fave, or follow if you enjoyed!)


	4. Chapter 4: Memories and Comfort

Chapter 4

Memories and Comfort

"The serving girl is with child?!"

The shriek of anger was frightening enough on its own, but the flash of green eyes demonstrating the escalating emotions of wrath was far worse. It was rare to see her in such a fury, calm and composed as she was, but if one ever had the misfortune of witnessing her wrath-it was something they would not forget in a hurry.

The elderly woman, the same who had found Morgana, had brought the High Priestess to her hovel to watch over her and speak with her hooded companion. They spent an uneventful night there, but the following morning brought the news of the Queen's likely pregnancy by Merek, their henchman.

"According to the word of her handmaiden," Merek replied stiffly, throwing back his hood and treating his cold hands to the warmth of the small fire. He kept his distance, not particularly fond of winessing the old woman's wrath any closer.

"Is she to be trusted?" The other man asked calmly.

Merek knew the old woman's keen eyes jumped on him at this question, boring into him. His eyes darted between the dead body of the High Priestess on the bed and the woman's hooded companion in an effort to avoid hers.

"Yes," He said finally, when he deemed it safe enough to speak, "She may be loyal to Camelot, but she is undecided. Her husband's life was saved from bandits by druids."

A sound like a mock laugh and a growl escaped the woman's lips.

"Traitors come and go like the wind," She said coolly, "Her husband is dead now, or have you forgotten the battle at Camlann so easily? She will hardly remember the kindness of the druids."

"But she does," Merek countered, "She simply needs guidance, in making the right choice."

The hut fell into an uncomfortable silence, the woman's eyes still watching Merek carefully. She took a few steps towards him, and he several involuntary steps back. Her head tilted slightly at his response, as if pleased of it. It was then, with a soft exhale of relief, that he realized that she had no intention of incinerating him.

"_She wouldn't end my life_," He told himself, trying his best to relax, "_She would have done that long before if I wasn't of any use_."

Yet still, as she stepped into the light of the fire-bright eyes flickering and a strange glow on her matured yet not entirely wrinkled skin-Merek felt himself doubt his own thoughts.

A small smile quirked up the old woman's curved lips. She knew full well what was on his mind, and to say the truth she found it quite amusing and wise at the same time. It was amusing to think that a full grown man would fear an old woman. But then again, she wasn't just any old woman, was she?

Merek was wise to fear her, for she would not hesitate to end his life if he dared show any sign of betrayal, and Hannah with him.

"And you will help her do that?" She asked, bringing him out of his thoughts by breaking the tense silence,"You will make her turn her back on her own people, take an unborn child's life?"

Merek avoided her gaze, but the tell-tale sign in his eyes that a negative response was the answer to her questions could not be easily hidden. It would be no easy task to make Hannah accept their ways and give them her full loyalty. She was grateful to the druids, but betraying her people-

"It will take time," He admitted, "But eventually, she will come to see the truth. She, and everyone else will see that a serving girl has no right to the throne-and that all of her offspring must be eliminated."

The creases that had formed between the woman's brows in her uncertainty of Hannah's trustworthiness smoothed. The look in her eyes showed she didn't seem fully convinced, but she decided to put aside her distrust of the Queen's handmaiden-for the time being.

She extended her hand towards Merek's face, the touch of her cold fingers encouraging a shiver to run down his spine as she raised his chin up.

"For your sake Merek," She said calmly, her unblinking eyes looking deep into his, "You had best hope she does."

...

It was early morning in Camelot, and Merlin found himself strolling up and down the battlements.

The wind blowing from the east was fresh, encouraging the warlock to breathe it all in with a slight shiver. Its pure and refreshing atmosphere was something he would bear the cold for.

Wrapping his jacket tighter round his slim frame he looked down on the breath-taking sight of Camelot in its full beauty, but its beauty and this fresh wind was not the only reason why he had come up here.

On this very battlement, under the welcoming rays of a smiling sun, there once stood a prince and his manservant.

Now this certain prince could be a prat just as much as his manservant could be a clumsy idiot, but the brotherly fondness they both had for each other was never more clear than on that day.

"_It__'__s been an__ honor serving you_." The manservant had said.

A look of consternation had crossed the prince's face.

"_You will be coming back-?_" The prince had replied, his voice a strange mix of an earnest question and a hopeful statement.

The manservant had explained as to why he could not, and the prince had said he understood.

"_Well_," The royal had said, for the sake of amusing his servant, "_You've been terrible-I mean, really-the worst servant I've ever had_."

The prince earned a wide grin from his manservant, a smile that clearly showed that he understood the true meaning.

He may have tried to hide it, masking it with an air of arrogance, but now the words he really meant to say were displayed clearly in the amiable glint of his eyes.

_You've been __amazing, __the best friend I've ever ha__d._

"_Thank you, sire_."

The ghost of a smile appeared on Merlin's face, but it was broken off by a pained sigh. It was so much easier to pretend, so much easier to live in the past and the wonderful memories, than live in the present with the heart breaking truth. He needed to be patient, to face the difficult times that were sure to come with a brave heart, but he didn't want to. The past was the only way he could keep Arthur alive, the only way to relive those glorious moments without the sting of death and the never ending circle of fate. The only way to keep everyone else he had once cherished and held dear to his heart alive.

Freya, his father, Will, Lancelot, Elyan-even Gwaine. It had pierced Merlin deep to hear of the knight's passing. Laid-back, tipsy, fun-loving, loyal, brave Sir Gwaine. He had not been present when they had laid him in a boat and lighted it with a flaming arrow before it dissappeared from sight, but he was sure he would have broken down if he had. It had been heart wrenching to let so many others go, and seeing it once more would have been the last straw.

And still, though he was long gone, Merlin could almost hear the knight's voice in his head.

"_Well, Merlin_," He would say in that jovial, yet heart-felt manner of his, "_I thought that I would never say this in __all__ my life, but I guess __I've found a King worth dying for_."

The warlock was sure that if he ever wanted to say any final words, those would have been it. He found tears in his eyes as he thought it over the day before when he was alone in the armoury, feeling angry with himself for not have been there for him, to save him, to stop Morgana then and there. He had begun to feel the heavy pressure of failure, but when Percival had come in to see who was in the armoury at such a late hour, he'd opened his usually silent mouth to utter words of wisdom.

"You aren't weak to cry, Merlin," The knight said when Merlin explained why tears were glinting in his eyes,"You've just been strong for too long."

Merlin rested his hands on the battlements at this thought, and he was so completely wrapped up in his musings that he almost failed to hear Gwen's soft presence behind him.

Almost.

"Merlin," She called.

He turned abruptly, and saw the Queen standing there, a soft smile on her face and a fur shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

"Someone is here to see you."

Merlin's brows furrowed momentarily till, with a sudden rush, out from behind Gwen came-

"Mother!" He cried, a wide smile of shock and joy claiming his face as he rushed to wrap his arms tightly around her. Gwen smiled brightly, and although she wanted to see the rare smile on her friend's face, she didn't want to intrude and left mother and son to take in this moment alone.

"My son," Hunith whispered gently, cradling his head in her hand.

They slowly broke away after a few moments, and as they did Hunith moved her hand from her boy's head to rest along his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," She said, looking up at him sadly, rubbing small circles into his skin with her thumb. She felt his pain when the bright smile faded away to be replaced once more by a thoughtful, sad look. Words could never go far enough to describe how sorry she was, but she hoped dearly her presence brought him some comfort.

Merlin shook his head softly, taking a deep breath.

"Why don't you come downstairs?" He asked, not wanting to carry on a conversation in this wind, "You must be cold."

The clouds were also thickening overhead, and Merlin reckoned there would be a fairly thick downpour.

Hunith's head tilted slightly, "If you want to stay here-"

The battlements was one of the treasure chests of Merlin's memories. Here he had spoken with Arthur several times. Here he had stood when Camelot was under attack, unwilling to ever leave his King's side even if dragons were spitting fire or enemy bows were releasing thousands of arrows in their direction.

His mother knew this full well.

"No," Merlin cut in softly, "It's alright."

Hunith nodded and, planting a motherly kiss on Merlin's high-boned cheek, she followed him down the stairs that led to the battlements. Slowly through several hallways and down stairs they went, walking quietly, but still enjoying the sweet silence.

It seemed to take quite some time to get back to Gaius' chambers, but when they did, the Court Physician greeted Hunith warmly with a smile and a embrace. Merlin wondered if he had sent for her, for Gaius did not seem at all surprised at her arrival.

"It's been too long," Hunith said as Gaius motioned for her and Merlin to sit.

"Indeed," The old physician agreed, but it seemed as though his words were not entirely directed to Hunith, for his eyes glanced momentarily in Merlin's direction. Hunith caught the look and recognized the message quite easily. Merlin wanted to talk to her alone.

"Well," Gaius said, standing to his feet, "I need to bring the Queen's potion."

"Of course," She consented, "Thank you Gaius."

_For being there for my boy all these years. It's the greatest gift a mother could ever hope for._

The words were left unspoken, but Gaius clearly understood. Nodding his head slightly, he exited his chambers with a soft click of the old wooden door.

Hunith now turned her attentions to her son, sitting beside her, looking back at her with so many different emotions. Both of his hands were splayed out on his lap, picking gently at the loose threads in his trousers. It was an old habit he had when he was in his early teens, one that had been adopted when Will had discovered his magic and when his life was still so uncertain.

So often Hunith had found him in the cool night air outside their small house with the look of indecision and dread written all over his face. In those early days, he didn't know which way to turn at the crossroads. He could never begin to comprehend the difficult path he would end up choosing would bring him. But later on, when everything had become more clear to him with the guidance of Kilgharrah and Gaius, he felt fully responsible for the paths he took. There were, of course, those that he had chose wisely, then there were others that he should have done better in choosing, and finally-the choices that he should have avoided all together, ones that were now all too many to count.

He blamed himself for taking risks and trying to change fates that had already been set in stone.

"You can't keep doing this," Hunith said softly, reaching out her hand to still his fingers, "You can't keep blaming yourself."

Merlin sighed softly, turning away his gaze to briefly bow his head and close his eyes.

"It's my doing," He said, slowly opening his eyes once more and biting his lip, "I took paths that I should have never even considered taking that had terrible consequences."

"You can't live in the past."

"But it's my fault it happened." Merlin mumbled, and all his suffering he had been trying to quietly push down came to the surface. Such pain Hunith saw in her boy's eyes-and it couldn't be ignored or set aside with any amount of comforting words or dragon's prophecies.

_My_ fault.

These two words resonated loudly in Hunith's mind.

"_Merlin_-" She murmured sadly.

"It's my fault that I couldn't save Morgana," He continued, "It's my fault that Mordred still lived when I was clearly told what he would do. All the signs, all the warnings-I pushed them all away-"

"Because that's who you are," She said earnestly, squeezing his hand,"You see the best in people, you try to bring out the good in them!"

"Maybe-" Merlin ventured, tilting his head lightly, "-maybe I was looking for it in the wrong people."

Hunith shook her head.

"You stayed true to yourself," She replied firmly, "Some people were unreachable, and you are not guilty for their final choices. This path has taken you through difficult places, but that doesn't mean there isn't any hope for the days ahead."

Merlin stopped short at this, his mother's sound words penetrating deep into his soul. It was true. He had lied to and poisoned Morgana for Camelot's future, but her final decision had not been in his hands. He had convinced Arthur to give Kara one last chance, but Kara and inevitably Mordred's decision were not in his hands.

"I know," Hunith said gently when she had his full attention, "That this burden is a heavy one to bear, and I would gladly help you bear it. You're not alone, my son-you will never be so again."

"Promise?" Came Merlin's weary, yet hopeful voice.

"Promise."

A steady exhale escaped her son's lips at these words. He had begun to lean forward but he suddenly hesitated, as if silently admonishing himself. He was a warlock, the most powerful sorceror to walk the Earth, he couldn't afford to always seek comfort in others.

Hunith, however, made no move to stop him. Perhaps he was Emyrs, but he wasn't just the powerful sorceror of legends. No, there was a part of everything in him.

He was the clumsy manservant, the young naive boy who didn't know when to keep his head down and mouth shut, Albion's protector, the bravest and most loyal of all. The son of the Earth, Sea, and Sky. The last Dragonlord.

But now, Merlin allowed himself to be his mother's little boy again. Leaning forward, he nestled his head between her cheek and shoulder while she kissed his head of raven hair.

"I love you, my son," Hunith whispered gently, caressing his cheek, "I love you so much."

...

"How have you been feeling, my lady?" Gaius asked. Upon leaving his house, the old physician had made his way to the Queen's chambers to find her glowing with joy. They had conversed some about Hunith's arrival before Gaius had come straight to the point.

"I felt sick, as before," Gwen said truthfully, "Fatigued as well."

From the tone of her voice it sounded as though nausea and fatigue were the most wonderful thing she'd experienced, but of course, because she knew what it could mean.

Gaius nodded only barely and placed the potion he'd brought her on the table. The Queen's eyes followed him expectantly.

He knew something, but why not just say it? Was what she and her maid had talked over the day before true, or simply her own hopeful dreams?

"Gaius," She asked carefully,"Is it..."

She couldn't get the words out, but her sparkling brown eyes clearly showed the anticipation stirring within, a brief flicker of hopeful joy in a time of mourning. The old physician relaxed his raised brow, and folding his hands infront of him, he thought of the best way to deal with this delicate situation.

He could not he let her hope in vain if she was not with child, but he could not snuff out this fire kindling in her heart if she was. He would have to reply as he did before till the potion proved her wrong or right.

"I wouldn't say anything for certain, my lady," He finally said, "Perhaps tomorrow will give us more answers."

Gwen felt somewhat disheartened at this, but she nodded gingerly.

"Thank you, Gaius."

After about half an hour after Gaius had left and Gwen slipped into her quiet musings, the doors were opened again. Gwen saw, in the reflection of her mirror, Hannah come in carrying a stack of newly washed night-gowns.

"Oh, Hannah!" The Queen said, surprised but happy, "I was just-"

She stopped short, concern and sympathy suddenly washing over her face. There were dark circles under her maid's eyes-clearly indicating she had not slept a wink-and an overall worried look etched into her normally cheery and bright features.

When her eyes met Gwen's, however, Hannah quickly faked a smile.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to tend to you, my lady," She said, lying the night-gowns out on Gwen's bed to put them in Gwen's wardrobe.

"Hannah, you look like you haven't slept at all!"

"Caleb had a high fever," Hannah said quickly, "I had to tend to him."

This was, in all fairness, a partial truth. Hannah's little boy had had a fever, but it'd died down quite quickly and was most definitely not the cause of Hannah's stressed state or the reason for not having slept any. She hoped, however, that the Queen had not noticed the hesitancy in her voice.

"Poor little one," Gwen replied gently, "I hope he feels better now?"

A slight sigh of relief.

She hadn't.

"Yes. He's a strong boy."

The Queen smiled, but Hannah's own expression was quite different. There was a flicker of guilt in her eyes. She was telling the Queen only half the truth, and that was just as bad as telling her a lie. She was giving information to the enemies of her people.

"_The __same '__enemies__' who__ saved your husband's life_." A part of her said, "_Could they still be __evil__ then_?"

"_Your husband is dead now._" Another side replied.

"_That is not the druid's doing_," The first one seethed, "_Not all those who are supposed enemies of Camelot are evil_."

"_The laws of Camelot have banned magic for a reason_."

"Hannah?"

The maid snapped out of her thoughts immediately to meet the Queen's eyes.

"Would you like me to fix your hair, my lady?" She asked, simply for the sake of trying to stop this internal conflict that had kept her awake all night.

"Yes, please." Gwen consented, noting the distracted look in her maid's eyes. There was something more to this, but what? It was upsetting to see Hannah this way.

The Queen shifted somewhat uncomfortably in her seat at the vanity with a concerned look on her face, yet she decided to set her thoughts or speculations aside. It could be something personal, and if it was she had no right to intefere with Hannah's life. She wouldn't. Her maid would be herself shortly and everything would be alright.

Hopefully.

Hannah pulled the brush out of a drawer along with hair ties and pins.

"Would you like braids, my lady?" Hannah asked, undoing the simple two-strand twist Gwen had made herself.

"Yes."

The maid began brushing from the tips of Gwen's hair, mildly softening her long, tight ringlets as she did.

"How is Rya?" The Queen asked, wincing softly when the brush found a knot.

"Forgive me," Hannah said quickly, seeing her expression in the mirror. She tried her best to run the brush more gently this time before answering the question.

"She is doing well, your Majesty."

Rya was her youngest child, a fragile petite little thing and a few years younger than Caleb. At first glance, one wouldn't think much of her, but the child had a fiery personality to match her bright red hair.

"A handful," Hannah continued, smiling softly, "As usual."

Gwen laughed a little at this. She had been quite a handful herself at Rya's age, despite her awkward character and tendency to say things she didn't mean.

"She's going to be a strong woman," Gwen replied, "She's a natural leader."

Hannah nodded, "Indeed, my lady."

The maid now began braiding Gwen's hair, crossing some of them over her head to resemble a head-band. She then finished it off with an elaborate bun of twists and braids kept up by flower pins, ones which encouraged a small smile on the Queen's face. This updo was, to say the truth, quite similar to her usual hairstyles, yet it had a personal touch with the colorful floral pins. It brought back such wonderful days when flowers were never amiss inbetween her bouncing brown curls.

"Thank you," Gwen said, admiring the braids and delicate flowers in the mirror, "It's beautiful."

Hannah smiled.

"Would you do something for me?" The Queen asked, standing to her feet and smoothing out her dress.

"Of course, my lady."

"Send for Merlin, Gaius, and Hunith," She said, "I think I will have lunch with them."

The maid nodded, curtsied, and left her mistress' chambers.

Gwen smiled lightly and, making her own way out, she entered the main hall to be greeted with several serving girls. Her plate, silverware, and goblet were already set on the table.

"Kathryn." The Queen called to the head servant who was helping bring in the food.

"My lady?"

"I will have company today," She said, "Would you serve food for four? Forgive me for not telling the cook beforehand-"

"It's nothing my lady, we have enough," Kathryn replied with a smile, "I will tell the cook at once."

Lying the Queen's napkin down beside her plate, the servant curtsyed before scurring off towards the kitchens.

Gwen sat back in her chair, and as she did, a pang of sadness pulled at her heart. There beside her, on her left, was an empty chair. Elaborate, delicate engravings were etched along the top, ones that Gwen absentmindedly traced with her fingers. It was _his_ chair.

How often had she looked over to her side, expecting to see him tilting his head in his endearing fashion while smiling at her, and be met with the vacant, empty chair? So many times she had almost wanted to have someone take his place, to fill this emptyness in her heart, but every time she found herself unable to do so.

No one could _ever_ take his place.

Even if he would never fill it again in this life, Gwen decided she'd rather have his empty chair than attempt to have her heart filled with anyone else.

Her stream of throughts was abruptly interrupted when the guard of the door came forward.

"My lady," He said, "They are here."

Gwen relaxed her outstretched her arm, nodded her thanks and beckoned to Gaius, Hunith, and Merlin.

"Come," She said gently, "Sit with me."

Presently all four friends were seated at the table, and servants began to fill their goblets and served the food. Merlin, out of habit, rose to his feet to help them, but Gwen rested a hand on his forearm.

"Merlin," She chided gently, "You are to be my advisor, not my servant."

Merlin turned a light shade of pink, but he smiled softly and returned to his place at the Queen's right side.

"How has life been in Ealdor?" Gwen asked Hunith after swallowing a sip of her wine.

"We've all been very well." Hunith replied, smiling softly, "Albeit lonely without my boy."

She squeezed Merlin's hand gently under the table.

"We've kept him away too long," Gaius added, "A boy needs his mother and his real home."

"As does he need his guardian," Merlin interjected in surprise, joy rising in his chest.

"Well," The Queen said decidedly, "Now you have both."

...

_Alone. Afraid. Lost. That was what she was. _

_The voices had not died down, nor had her tears. She was a trembling, sobbing disaster. The mandrake kept working harder against her weak defenses, tearing down her once strong walls of protection, hurting her from the inside. Make the pain stop, stop the voices! She was going to go insane if someone didn't save her from this, but who would? She would have to bear it, yet how much more of this could she take?_

_"Are you still afraid of me?"_

_"You've done enough harm already."_

_"You really hate me so much?"_

_"You can trust me Morgana, you know you can."_

_"Not so powerful now, my lady?"_

_"This is no ordinary sword. Like yours, it was forged in the dragon's breath."_

_The last voice was so powerful that it sent something like a terrible, anguishing shock of lighting. It sped through her body, and as it ripped through her stomach, Morgana let out a deafening scream._

Arthur was wide awake, almost jolting upright. His senses still hadn't recognized the surroundings he truly was in. All his eyes could see, all his ears could hear, was the scene of Morgana's crumpled body and her helpless screams. He would have likely reopened his still healing wound if he had sat up, but thankfully comforting arms guided him back into his relaxed position and a gentle voice spoke to him, telling him to lie still. The voice brought him out of his sleep, into the wonderful light and presence of his loving mother.

"Slowly, my son," Ygraine soothed, cradling his head closer to her stomach, "Take deep breaths, tell me what startled you."

The King swallowed hard, and began steadying his uneven breaths. Morgana's pain, the dark pit-it had all been so real. Dream though it was, the moments spent in that dark hole were truly the most terrible and lonely of his life.

Arthur took a few more slow breaths, and as he did he realized they were not alone. Looking over in the direction of the tent opening, Arthur noticed an elderly man, likely a druid judging by the swirling symbol on his neck.

"He's is my friend, Eldirr," Ygraine reassured, noting the confused expression on her son's face, "It is he who removed the shard."

Arthur gave his unspoken words of gratitude, and in turn Eldirr relieved the tenseness in his shoulders with an affirmitive nod and a peaceful smile.

"Arthur?" Ygraine asked gently, directing his eyes back to her, "What was it?"

Arthur sighed softly.

"Morgana," He muttered, blue eyes mirroring sadness, "She is suffering the pain she has inflicted."

Ygraine softened as she took in his words. Morgana may have turned her back on him, she may have tried to kill him and take over Camelot, but that didn't change the fact that he had once regarded her as one of his best friends. Not to mention his half-sister.

Her betrayal would always be a pain he would have to bear, even if her death had now brought peace to the Five Kingdoms. Ygraine knew this all too well.

A gentle sigh escaped her lips and slowly she bent over to kiss his golden head. She knew no words could ever comfort him, but she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, quietly, soothingly. They assured him she would always be here for him, they gave the comfort he had sorely needed from his father, but rarely received. It had a healing effect, relieving the pain of miplaced trusts, heartbreaking betrayals, and even some of the anguish in having to let go of all his friends and loved ones.

And so, with these gentle words and likely an enchantment from Eldirr's part, Arthur allowed himself to slip into the world of peaceful, soothing dreams-away from the harsh reminders of betrayals and anguish. Bright light and vivid colours made up his dreams, giving him the much needed rest he needed and promising a wonderful future in store for them all. This tale was far from finished.

(Here's Chapter 4 everyone! I know this one moved along kinda slowly, but trust me, I have good ideas floating around in my busy head xD Anyway follow and fave, and please leave a comment! I love reviews as much as I love cookies and they are a guaranteed short-cut to fast updates ;) anyway, thank you all for reading and I hope you will enjoy!)


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